


Prompt thing #4

by grimmsmeatsticks



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Crack, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:29:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmsmeatsticks/pseuds/grimmsmeatsticks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Caffeine ceases to exist.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prompt thing #4

_Imagine._

_Imagine that you worked a double shift last night with back-to-back surgery because Our Glorious Leader took a handful of poor reds and his first officer on a ~~stupid~~  daring mission and they all came back in pieces. _

_Imagine working with a medical staff that are all good and even handpicked by yourself, but they still aren’t quite as good as you are so you have to be personally involved in every major procedure because it’ll increase the chances of saving all of them._

_Imagine that you do save all of them and for once everybody lives and you’re the grumpy-ass doctor who’s dancing with the nearby blonde because tonight you don’t have to go to bed with blood on your hands. Not today._

_Imagine falling into bed as the adrenaline drains out of your body and leaves you feeling like death._

_Imagine a sleep that’s heavy and black but only lasts a few precious hours before your blaring alarm rips you from it’s numbing grasp._

_Imagine that you have to literally crawl out of bed and into the bathroom because your head is so dazed that you don’t trust yourself not to fall over if you try to stand up just yet, and once there you can’t even rely on a cold shower to wake you up because the sonic showers don’t have temperature controls. They don’t need it._

_Imagine every tired muscle aching as you get dressed and the only thing giving you the strength to place one foot in front of the other to walk down to Sickbay is the sweet calling of your coffeemaker._

_Imagine spending nearly a month’s worth of credits on the best brewing machine the galaxy can offer, and equally insane amounts on the very finest artisan coffee beans, plucked one by one by hand on traditional, organic farms and shipped express to you across the galaxy so you can roast and grind them yourself._  
  
_Imagine what your office smells like in the mornings when you’re playing Potions Master and you’re cooking up a cup of black heaven that’s so bitter and strong and perfect that a Klingon general would be moved to tears by its divine beauty._

 _Imagine this being the perfect drug to help you survive another day on this space tin can, but when you finally drag your comatose ass to your office and reach for the jar that you keep the beans in you find it empty._  
  
_Imagine tearing your private stores apart because you know you had at least two more unopened bags of the stuff but they’re nowhere to be seen and a vile taste starts to rise to the back of your throat because what if… What if you forgot to order more? What if you’re out?_  
  
_Imagine realizing that you must have forgotten to put the order out last time the ship was restocking its stores, and that you have to wait months for the Enterprise to get back to a spot where you can even send messages…_

_Imagine the cold clammy realization that anything the replicator makes is decaf because caffeine is a highly addictive stimulant and it’s not good for the crew to be dependent on it. It might impair their abilities should they find themselves in a situation where they can’t get their fix._

_Imagine those being your own words because as CMO you deeply care about the health and well-being of your crew, despite how hypocritical it is that you’ve got a crippling addiction to caffeine yourself._

_Imagine your hands shaking._

_Imagine the captain’s bastardly laughter when you hail him and you’re very close to literally crying when you explain that you’re out of coffee and the ship HAS TO re-route to the nearest supply yard or at the very least change course enough so communications comes back up and you can send out an order; and it has to be right now or you’ll go insane._

_Imagine him refusing because there are missions to do and you’re in the Neutral Zone and can’t risk detection and there’s absolutely no way that he’ll blow all of that away because you can’t get coffee. There’s coffee in the replicators, he says and then laughs again when you spew a tirade about the goddamn decaf not being worth the cancer-causing styrofoam it’s served in._

_Imagine begging and bargaining like some goddamn street junkie._

“Please, Jim! Please just lemme take a shuttle and I’ll meet up with the ship later. I’ll be fine. Please. You don’t understand. I need this!!”

 _Imagine that you really_ _do need it. That your body is already in withdrawals with cold sweats and shivering hands and a skull-splitting migraine that’s making your eyes water._

_Imagine dying and wasting your last breaths on one last plea to the captain to listen to you because all you need in the world is to once again get to taste this dark master that dominates your existence._

_Farewell cruel world._

_Imagine Jim asking if you’ll allow caffeine in the replicators again._

_Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes!_  “Anything you need, Jim. Just let me fly out to get my coffee and I’ll be your eternal slave!”

_Imagine Jim showing up five minutes later with a box in his hands and a smirk so cocky and victorious and infuriating._

“I found your coffee, Bones.”


End file.
